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The Smith Interviews
1. – June 2, 6:54 PM. “Fine!” A few drops of blood dripped from under his nose. He shifted in his chair, trying to wipe it away. It was an uncomfortable maneuver; his hands were handcuffed behind him. “Ask me again.” “Finally,” The man in the trenchcoat sighed. “Now, are you Hadriel Carmine?” “Maybe.” The man in the chair smiled. His long blond hair fell in front of his face, his gold-brown eyes glinted the same color. He seemed to walk a fine line between scary and girlishly silly. The man in the coat glowered down at him, the police officer next to him raising his nightstick again. “Are you Hadriel Carmine?” “Alright, fine, I am.” The man smiled. “But that’s just one of my names, you can’t know them all, detective.” “I’m not a detective, Carmine. You can call me Smith.” “That is not your real name.” “So?” Smith opened drawer in his desk and took out a file. “Alright, you are Hadriel Carmine, a.k.a., H. Riel Riel, The Angel, Hadriel Rivers, and, let’s see… Hollow.” “Oh,” he looked uncomfortably around the room. “Call me Hollow, please.” He seemed be wearing eyeliner. “Fine then, Hollow.” Smith rolled his eyes. “Perhaps you’d like to answer a few questions we have for you.” “I’m sure I‘d prefer not, but I am handcuffed to a chair.” He laughed nervously. Smith glared at him. “Let’s start with a simple one. Why are you in drag?” “Well, first off, I’m not in drag, I’m wearing high-heels. There’s a difference.” “You’re wearing earrings too.” Smith gestured at Hollow’s sliver hoops, currently tangled rather badly in his hair. Hollow sighed. “Fine. I’m wearing heels and earrings. But it’s not drag.” “But why are you wearing them?” “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Smith.” Hollow looked down at his black stilettos. Smith stared at him. “It’s not relevant.” Hollow muttered. “I’ll say what’s relevant, Mr. Carmine.” “Please don’t call me that.” Smith rolled his eyes. “Just answer the questions. How long do you want to drag this out?” “It’s for my boyfriend.” Hollow frowned at the floor. The police officer squeaked, holding back a laugh. Both Hollow and Smith turned to glare at him. He fell silent, sheepishly taking a few steps back. “And your boyfriend is…?” Smith looked back at him. “Does it matter?” “It’s fully within my legal allowance to have him hit you again, Mr. Carmine.” “Styx Rivers. It should be in that file.” “You mean Samuel Rivers?” “Well no one calls him that.” “I just needed you to confirm it,” Smith scribbled something down. “You have full knowledge that Mr. Rivers is married to Angel Lafayette?” “Yeah but they’re separated or something. I live with him.” “And you frequent a brothel where Mrs. Lafayette and a Ms. Arcadian Abode work as prostitutes?” “It’s a strip club.” “Strip club, fine.” He laughed, “You caught me.” Smith grunted. He walked behind his desk, glancing out the window for a second. He turned and placed the file on the desk, leaning forward on his hands. “Now I just have one more question, Hollow, what the hell is going on?” “With what?” “You know what I’m talking about.” “I don’t.” “You’re Mr. Rivers’ boyfriend, I know you know. You know the legal accusations that Mr. Rivers has had against his law firm and the conspiracy with the brothel.” “He doesn’t own the law firm.” “Mrs. Verona Paroli does, I know.” “It’s ‘Miss” “What?” “It’s ‘Ms. Verona Paroli’. She got divorced.” “I don’t care.” “You should. It’s your job to care.” Smith groaned and faced the window, waving to the police officer. “Hit him,” he ordered. The officer walked closer to Hollow, preparing to hit him across the face. “Wait!” Hollow flinched. “I’ll stop!” The officer looked at Smith. Smith motioned for him to hit him anyway. Hollow gagged from the blow, his spit flecked with blood. A fresh trail of blood slid out of his nose and to his lips. “I said I would stop!” “I didn’t believe you.” Smith looked at him. Hollow glared back. “Now,” said Smith, “I’d just like you to answer a few questions.” “I can do that.” Smith scowled. “What is the extent of your relationship with Styx Rivers?” “I’m his boyfriend, I told you that.” “And does his wife know about your affair?” “Angel? Yeah. She’s fine with it. She’s crazy.” “Mmhm. Do you have any idea why a woman, such as Mrs. Lafayette, married to such a wealthy man, such as Mr. Rivers, would continue to work as a prostitute?” “Force of habit?” Smith grunted. “And what job do you have, Hollow?” “Don’t have one.” “Is it true that you have had an illegitimate child with a Ms. Arcadian Abode?” “That’s not fair, man.” Smith glared at him. “Fine. I have.” “And you gave her up for adoption?” “Yeah.” Hollow looked at the floor. “Do still have a carnal relationship with Ms. Abode?” “What?” “Are you still sleeping with her?” “Yes.” “And she is a stripper?” “You knew that already.” “Do you pay her?” “What?” “When you sleep with her. Does she make you pay?” “We usually fuck outside of hours.” “Please try not to be too vulgar.” Hollow laughed. “That’s not vulgar.” Smith ignored him, continuing to scribble down things in the file. “Does Mr. Rivers know about your relationship with Ms. Abode?” “Know? He’s fucking her too.” Smith looked at him, incredulous. “Are you all sleeping with each other?” “Um, me and Arcadian aren’t fucking Angel.” Hollow thought for a second. “Well, I actually can’t really speak for those two.” Smith sat on the edge of his desk, a hand covering his eyes. He sighed, obviously not wanting to be doing this. After about thirty seconds of silence, he lit a cigar and asked, “What do you know about Jon Tabron and Verona Paroli?” Hollow fell silent. Smith looked at him. “I… I can’t,” Hollow stared at him. “They’ll kill me.” “I’ll kill you.” “You can’t do that.” “Why not?” “I…” Hollow looked around the room, as if looking for avenues of escape. Finding none, he looked back at Smith. “Fine.” He took a deep breath. “I work for both of them.” “I thought you said you didn’t have a job.” “I was lying.” “What do you do for both of them?” “I spy on the other.” “And how do you manage that?” “At the law firm I work as a assistant for Ms. Paroli and Styx.” “And at Mr. Tabron’s club?” Hollow looked at him. “Guess.” Smith looked down at Hollow’s high-heels, cigar sticking out of his mouth. “Yeah.” Hollow smiled a little. “And why do they want spies?” “Well, Paroli wants to run Tabron out of business.” “Why?” “It began a while ago, I guess.” “I have time.” “Well, it all pretty much started when she left him…” “Go on.” “Well, I guess they were never really the most loyal couple. Paroli served a few years in federal a while back, something about attempted assassination of a minor or something… And I think Tabron slept with a few other people, no real serious relationships, I don’t think. “And that’s why she left him? When she found out?” “Sort of. Let me finish. After she did her time Paroli found out about Tabron sleeping around. So she decides to get him back. And she finds the first willing floozy and fucks him.” “And do you know who Paroli slept with?” Hollow looked at him, a bit bemused. “Well, me.” Smith refused to look surprised. “And that broke them up? Hollow nodded, “She did the most unfair thing and tried to force him to forgive her so she would forgive him. He didn’t, so she walked out on him. And now she’s trying to run down his strip club.” “And what do you do?” “I sell information about Paroli to Tabron and vice-versa.” “And how much exactly do you think you know?” “I’m a pretty good listener, Smith.” “And what would I have to do to get the rest of this information?” “Hitting me seemed to be working pretty well.” “If you cooperate we’ll let you go.” “You’ll let me go? Golly, I better spill all the beans then.” Hollow rolled his eyes. “Do you know what they’ll do to me if they find out that I even talked to a cop at all?” “You didn’t really have a choice, did you?” “It doesn’t matter if I had a choice. If you broke my arm to make me talk it wouldn’t matter.” “You’ve been singing like a canary for the last half hour.” “Have you ever heard a canary sing, Smith? It’s not the nicest sound. More of a whistle.” “I can’t say you’re the nicest to listen to, either. And I have a list right here of things that could put you in jail for quite a while. If you tell the whole story we’ll let you go.” “I can’t tell you the whole story. I only know bits and pieces.” “I have a few of your friends waiting outside who I think can fill in the gaps.” “You don’t say. Did you knock them out and tie them to chairs too?” “Didn’t have to, they didn’t put up a fight.” “I didn’t put up a fight.” “You tried to punch me in the eye and kicked Johnson over there in the shin.” “He hit me with a nightstick!” “After you kicked him!” Smith put out his cigar, grinding it into an ashtray until it began to fall apart. Hollow raised his eyebrows. “So who did you find?” “Rivers, Paroli and Tabron.” “Impressive.” “…Getting back to the subject at hand, what else do you know about Paroli trying to take down Tabron?” “I told you, they’d kill me.” “I will kill you! I will put you in jail for so many years you’ll forget what color the sky is.” “You don’t scare me.” Hollow snarled. “You’re lying.” “I know,” he shrugged. “It was worth a try.” “Now tell me what you know.” “I… I don’t know anything else! Paroli… the last time I overheard something interesting she was talking to Styx about something that would run Tabron into the ground, something big. I was on my way to investigate at the club when you and your partner over there wrestled me to the ground!” Smith sighed. “Fine. Fine!” He stood up. “We’ll talk more later, you’ll be placed in a holding cell until we need you again.” Hollow balked. “What? You can’t do that!” Smith rolled his eyes. “I can, and I will.” He waved to the police officer again. “Take him.” Hollow whined and feebly struggled as the he unhooked him from the chair and led him out of the room. The officer dragged him into the hallway. 2. – June 2, 7:23 PM. A pale young man with short black hair in a black suit looked up at the sound of Hollow’s voice. He had been sitting in a plastic chair, waiting for his turn to be interviewed. In his hands he held a porn magazine hidden in a newspaper. He stared at Hollow. “What the fuck,” the man said, “Are you doing here?” “Oh.” Hollow smiled nervously. “Hi.” “What are you doing here? Why are you bleeding? Are those Angel’s shoes?” Styx stood up, putting the newspaper on his seat and grabbing Hollow’s arm. The officer looked at him. “Mr. Rivers, you’re going to have to let go, this man is being placed in a holding cell for further questioning.” Styx raised an eyebrow. “What? Further questioning?” He looked at Hollow. “What did you do?” Hollow opened his mouth to say something, but the officer interrupted, “Smith will see you now.” He yanked Hollow away by his handcuffs, continuing to pull him down the hall. Styx stood there, extremely confused as he watched the Hollow get dragged out sight. Smith opened the door of his office. “Mr. Rivers? I have a few questions I’d like for you to answer.” Styx turned and followed him back into the office, glancing over his shoulder before when went. They sat down, Smith at his desk and Styx in the chair Hollow had been handcuffed in. “Now, Mr. Rivers, I’d like to-” “Wait,” Styx said, ignoring Smith, “Before you go off on your question rant, I have one thing to ask.” “Yes?” “What the fuck was Hollow doing here?” “The same reason you're here, Mr. Rivers, to answer some questions about possible illegal activities involving your law firm and a brothel.” “What? My firm? ... Never.” He paused, “What did he say?” Smith hid a smirk. “That’s confidential information.” “Damn it,” Styx muttered to himself. “That backstabbing bitch.” “What was that?” “Nothing.” He fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. “Alright, Mr. Smith, what do you want to ask?“ “Let’s do the easy ones first. You are the head lawyer of a law firm owned by Mrs. Verona Paroli?” “I am.” He said smugly, smiling a bit. “And Mr. Hadriel Carmine, commonly known as Hollow, works for you as a secretary?” “And more.” “And you’re… umm, partners with Mr. Carmine?” “What’s it to you?” “I just need to confirm the fact for our files, Mr. Rivers.” Smith didn't make eye contact. “Yes, I am.” Styx stared at him with an uncomfortable intensity. Smith just continued to look down at the file he was holding. “And you’re married to a Mrs. Angel Lafayette?” Styx stared at his nails and tucked a nonexistent lock of hair behind his ear. “Umm, yeah, I suppose.” “What do you mean by that?” “Yeah, err, we're married, or, at least, we were.” “So you're separated from Mrs. Lafayette?” “I, umm, I, well, maybe.” He glanced around the room. “Look, is this really important?” “Not really, but I’d like you to answer anyway.” ”Yeah, we're married, I think… Yeah. We are. Okay, moving on.“ Smith sighed. “And she’s a prostitute working at a brothel?” “Well… she does often perform various services and gets reimbursed for them.” Smith rolled his eyes. “Why would you marry a prostitute?” “…Boredom.” Smith raised an eyebrow. ”...Moving on, what do you know about Mrs. Paroli's recent divorce?“ “Miss.” “Ms. Paroli, fine. Answer the question.” “My relationship with Ms. Paroli is strictly business.” “Alright. Fine. Let’s go to the next one.” Smith turned a few pages in the file. “What is your relationship with Ms. Arcadian Abode?” “We're.... acquaintances.” “Hollow claimed that you had slept with her.” “I might have, once or twice. But never more than that, usually...” “How can you usually only sleep with someone once or twice?” “I mean… a night...” Smith cleared his throat, looking down at his desk. Styx looked around the room for a moment and then looked back at him. “Anyway. I don't see how that's relevant.” “Um. ...And does your 'wife' know about your relationship with Ms. Abode?” “Mmhm.” “Alright.” ”Once again, doesn't seem relevant.“ “Yeah.” Smith flipped though the file again. “Just a few more questions, Mr. Rivers, then you can go. Ah. Do you know anything at all concerning Ms. Paroli’s former husband?” “Oh? That dirty scumbag? I know things that could put him behind bars for years. But, 'course with the mafia and everything, the second I open my mouth I'm dead.” Styx choked on the end of the sentence, then bit his lip, his fingers drumming on his leg. He sighed. “Well, now's the point where you promise that you'll protect me so I can finally rat out that dirty sunovabitch.” Smith stared at him. “We can do that.” He said quietly. Styx took a deep breath, “So they've got this deal with some Mafia, something about drug money, we've been trying to crack down on them but, umm, their have been... err... some, uh, complications.” “Like?” “Well, um, our lawyers, uh, some of them, err, well... I mean, we're only speculating on the drug thing... I mean, it's probably nothing but a common strip club, so umm... shit.” “Something wrong, Mr. Rivers?” “No, nothing. Just some of the lawyers, we have reason to believe aren't entirely loyal, but it's nothing… Dammit, she'll be pissed at me.... never mind.” “You have the full protection of the law, any more information you can supply would be very helpful.” “Can you protect me from my wife?” He seemed half serious. Smith raised his eyebrows. Styx coughed. “Uhh, err, long story. Um, didn't, uhh, forgot to turn off the…err, heaty thing... Yeah, that sounds about right.” “I'd like to know about Tabron, not your home life, Mr. Rivers.” “Oh, Tabron? Good fellow.” He tried to tuck his hair behind his ears again. Smith sighed. “Well, thank you for your time. If you have any more information you'd like to give us, please contact me.” Smith handed him a business card. “Oh, great. Thanks. Goodbye.” Styx stood up and dashed out the door. Smith counted to three. Styx poked his head back in. “Wait, one more question, Why, exactly, is Hollow here? He’s just my secretary.” Smith raised his eyebrows. “Oh.” “And why is he in a holding cell?” “That’s confidential information, Mr. Rivers.” “I need to talk to him now.” He snarled, taking a few steps closer to Smith. “I can give you ten minutes.” “That's all I'll need.” “Alright. Follow me.” Smith brushed past him and started down the hall. When they arrived at Hollow’s cell he immediately jumped up at the sight of Styx. “Styx! Honey you got to bail me out!” ”First, answer me this: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?“ Smith cleared his throat loudly before Hollow could speak. “He’s not allowed to tell you that.” “Shut the hell up.” Smith looked slightly taken-aback, then leaned in closer to Styx, his voice low. “I know a lot of things, Mr. Rivers, plenty of them good enough to get you in jail for a long, long time. It doesn’t matter if you’ve done anything against the law. But of course, you’ve already proven that you have. And I’d like you to show a little respect for someone who could have you in solitary confinement if I wanted to.” “Umm, of course. Thank you very much for letting me see him.” He turned back to Hollow. “HOLLOW. YOU. ME. TALKING. LATER.” Hollow looked from Styx to Smith. “Is he going to bail me out?” Smith leaned back on the heels of his shoes. “Nope.” Styx sighed. “Alright, fine. How much?” “Well, technically I can't let you bail him out because you're also being interviewed for the same case.” ”Fine. Hollow, know that you've got some explaining to do...“ Hollow stared at Smith. “Come on. I don’t want to spend the night in here! Isn’t there any way he could get me out?” “Well... fifteen hundred dollars.” Smith smiled at him. Styx almost laughed. “Fifteen hundred dollars? Hollow baby, you can spend the night.” “What?” Hollow whined between the bars, “I'm worth that!” “I know you are, deary.” Styx looked at him. “Then get me out.” “Umm… but, honey. I’m not totally made of cash.” “You cheap bastard. I hate you.” “I love you too, baby. See you tomorrow.” Styx looked back at Smith, “I can come get him tomorrow, right?” “Umm… Technically we can keep him here for up to a week. Unless, maybe, he decides to tell us more,” said Smith, who was trying to hide his inherent alarm at their behavior. Hollow almost screamed. “A week?” Styx smiled a little guiltily at Hollow. “Well, yeah, call me when I should get him.” Hollow gave a kind of angry half-squeal like a small girl denied a pony for Christmas, “Well don’t expect any sex when I get out!” “Ha, Hollow baby, you're so funny. I'll get you some of your favorite chocolate cake when you get out.” “No! I… my favorite kind?” “Your favorite kind.” Styx smiled. “Fine.” Hollow crossed his arms. “Goodbye.” Styx walked over and kissed Hollow on the cheek. Hollow responded by kissing him on the mouth. Smith blinked a couple times. Someone behind them cleared their throat loudly. “Mr. Rivers,” A female voice said, “That’s hardly professional behavior.” Styx stepped away from Hollow, disentangling his fingers from his hair. “Oh, ahem. Ms. Paroli, hello. I'll leave now.” He turned and quickly walked away. Ms. Paroli watched Styx leave then looked at Hollow. “Why are you in drag, Mr. Carmine?” “It’s… it was for Styx.” Ms. Paroli sighed, pursing her lips. She was a tall, foreboding woman with a boney frame and a pretty but harsh face. Her pure white hair could have been cut on a ruler, having been cut off perfectly just over her eyes and just above her shoulders. Her silver-blue eyes glared from under her bangs. She wore an oversized grey fox coat. She hadn’t taken the hood off yet and didn’t look like she was planning to. 3. – June 2, 7:36 PM. “Ha, and doesn't he look sexy, Verona?” A man walked up next to her grabbing roughly her around the waist. Verona’s expression switched to one of shocked disgust and she twisted away from him, momentarily losing her composure before regaining her balance and slapping him. Hollow hid a laugh. Verona shot him a look and Hollow looked at the ground then sat down. “Mr. Tabron.” She looked back at him. “We are in a police station.” “I realize that, darling.” He smiled at her. Smith coughed. “Mr. Tabron, Mrs. Paroli-” Verona both turned to him. “Miss Paroli,” she said. Tabron coughed. Verona glared at him for a moment then looked back at Smith and forced a less threatening expression. It wasn’t exactly a smile. “I believe, Mr. Smith, that I have a interview scheduled with you in ten minutes.” “We can start now, Ms. Paroli, if you like.” “Of course.” She took a step towards him then stopped. “How much to bail him out?” she motioned to Hollow. “We have a few more questions we’d like to ask him.” “I’m sure I can answer any questions that he could.” Her default expression seemed to be completely blank. Smith stared at her for a second. Tabron pushed his way past her. “Yeah, how much to bail Hollow out? I’m losing good money here.” Smith raised his eyebrows. “Fifteen hundred dollars for bail.” Verona sighed. “Fine, fine. I’ll pay when we’re finished with the interview.” Smith nodded. “Great.” He smiled at Verona and escorted her down the hall to his office. Tabron watched them go, and then walked over to the door of Hollow’s cell. He leaned down, snarling in a low voice, “Hollow, you’re going to have to have a lot of sex after this. I mean, a lot.” Hollow stared at him. “Like, fuck more people than you have ever fucked before.” Hollow rolled his eyes. “I’m off hours, Sir.” “Get the fuck on hours.” “But… I only work on weekends.” “I don't give a shit.” “Then pay my bail.” “Why the fuck would I do that if Verona, my dear, already agreed to do it for me?” He smiled. Hollow sighed. “Fine. Are you just going to sit here and glare at me until Verona gets back?” “Pretty much,” Tabron sat on a plastic bench across from the cell. “She's sexy, isn't she?” “Verona?” Hollow ran his fingers though his hair. “She scares me.” 4. – June 2, 7:39 PM. Smith sat down behind his desk. Verona stood. Smith motioned for her to sit in the chair. “Thank you, Mr. Smith, I’ll sit if I need to.” He nodded. “Alright, I’d just like you to confirm a few facts for me-” “I know how this goes, Mr. Smith, I am Verona Paroli, owner of Paroli and Rivers law firm. Styx Rivers is my C.E.O. and co-owner. I do not deny that I spent three years in prison for attempting to murder a minor. I was extremely intoxicated that the time and I got out at the minimum sentence. After finding out my husband had slept with other women, I slept with another man and then divorced him. Mr. Carmine probably told you it was he; he likes to brag about it. And, just for the record, I will regret it for the rest of my life. What else did Mr. Carmine tell you?” “He gave me some vague information about Tabron but the didn’t seem to know much.” She took out a cigarette, and after lighting it, said, “Do I have your protection, Mr. Smith?” “Yes.” “I’m trying to expose Tabron on a private loan he took out from the mafia and is now trying to pay off by using money from drug deals. If you’re wondering, the loan was mainly to renovate his brothel and partially to pay a hit-man to take me out.” “He tried to kill you because you divorced him?” Smith’s pen was a blur on the paper. “He is trying to kill me. I’m a very powerful woman, Mr. Smith. I have people who are extremely invested in my wellbeing. Tabron has sent two hit-men to kill me and I have had both of them dispatched before they were anywhere close. But he’s not someone who gives up easily.” Her tone changed on the last sentence, there was a slight yearning in it. She blinked and looked back at Smith, her voice shifting back to its usual monotone. “You understand that I have just given you a lot of extremely valuable information that could get a lot of people killed, correct?” “Of course, Ms. Paroli.” “Good.” She walked closer to his desk. “You believe, as I do, that Mr. Tabron is selling woman for sex, correct?” “Well, we actually have proof of that.” “Then why are we having this conversation?” “Because we’re attempting to uncover a series of Mafia-run drug rings that Mr. Tabron is running through this brothel.” “Are you?” “Well, yes.” She almost smiled. “Then I believe we could provide valuable assets to each other. I was married to that bastard for almost ten years, Mr. Smith. I protected him for longer than that. I know every thought that goes though his head, every spy he has, and every one of his whores and pimps.” She leaned closer to Smith. “But that’s not enough. Tabron may act stupid but he’s not. He’s got the backing of the mafia and almost an army out of the underbelly of this city. I can’t trust anyone. And that’s why I agreed to this interview. You’ve got enough authority, but not too much that I couldn’t off you if I wanted to. Tabron has eyes everywhere, but I have more.” “Here.” She opened her oversized coat to revel a tight black dress and pinstriped leggings. She reached into one of the inner pockets of the coat took a business card. She took the pen from his hand and scribbled something on the back of it. Her fingers were cold. “Here.” She placed the card on his desk “That is the address of Mr. Tabron’s brothel. I suggest you send a few scouts over there to check the place out. I already have one spy there, as you know, but he’s not the most trustworthy.” She stared him straight in the eye. “The second number on the front is my private contact number, you can use it to contact me if you need anything or find anything else out, I’ll keep a line open.” She reached into another pocket and pulled out a leather purse. “Fifteen hundred, did you say? Will you take a check?” Smith nodded. She took out a black book and wrote out the sum, tearing the check out and offering it to him. Smith held up his hand, “Just give it to the front desk and they’ll let you take him.” She almost smiled, “Thank you for your time, Mr. Smith.” And she was out the door he could say another word. 5. – June 2, 7:48 PM. Verona didn’t even glance at Tabron as she stalked back to Hollow’s holding cell and waited for an officer to unlock it. “I never want to have to bail you out of jail again. Or, for that matter, see you in drag.” She spoke to him like he was a child. He attempted to not make eye contact. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” She slapped him on the arm. He looked at her, just looking hurt. She just glared. “Did you hear any of what I said? Go home and clean yourself up. You’re bleeding.” Hollow wiped some of the half-dried blood from under his nose, beginning to make his way to the door. Verona stopped him. “Wait, look at me.” She inspected his face, frowning. “You might have a black eye tomorrow, don’t bother coming in to work if you do.” “Do I still get paid?” “What do you think?” She raised an eyebrow. “Alright, Ms. Paroli.” He looked back at the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow, or the next day.” “Good. I assume you have a ride home?” “Um. I’ll call Styx.” “I can drive you if you’ll wait until my interview is over.” Tabron walked up behind Hollow. Hollow looked at him. “Umm…” Tabron drew a line across his throat with his finger. Hollow forced a smile. “Sure. I’ll wait.” He sat down. Verona sighed. “Mr. Carmine, Mr. Tabron.” She walked to the door, her hood still up. “Bye, sweets! Love you, doll!” Tabron called after her. She gave him the finger as she walked outside, and she was gone. Tabron smiled after she as she went. “Well,” said, checking his watch, “I think I’m up.” He smiled at Hollow. “I’ll try to keep it short.” 6. - June 2, 7:59 PM. Tabron walked into Smith’s office, sitting down and lighting a cigarette. “Why are here today, Mr. Smith?” “We’re here because of certain legal charges held against you, Mr. Tabron.” “And those would be?” “Prostitution, possession and sale of illegal drugs, dealings with the Mafia, and attempted murder.” “I plead innocent. Never done any of it.” “We’re not in court, Mr. Tabron.” “Well, I didn’t.” “Alright. I’d just like you to answer a few questions.” “I can do that.” “First off you are the owner of-” “A strip club, yes.” “Yes. All right. And you were recently divorced by Ms. Verona Paroli, correct?” “Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair. “I bet she’s got you convinced she’s on the side of ‘justice’ or whatever.” “Excuse me?” Smith looked at him. “She’s got you thinking I’m the bad guy.” He laughed. “Can I tell you a few things about Verona Paroli?” “Err, go ahead.” “Ha, you know, she wasn't always an uptight business girl. When I met her she was insane. A stripper, did she tell you that?” “…No.” “'Course she didn't. Five years in a strip club when I met her.” He smiled. “And that's only the beginning, Smith.” Smith lit a cigar and nodded, indicating for him to go on. “Mmm, you know she was in jail three years for attempted murder? Me? Not me, I told her not. I tried. I didn't want our son dead…” There was a bit of longing his voice, an undertone of sorrow “Our little baby…” Smith nodded his way though the first part of Tabron’s lament but looked up at the mention of his son. “You and Ms. Paroli had a child?” “Mmhm, our little baby.” “She failed to mention that it was her child she tried kill.” “Of course she did, our child wasn’t the happiest thing in her life. And I'm sure she wasn't the happiest thing in his life.” “So she kept him secret and then tried to kill him?” Tabron grunted. Smith continued to scribble things down on the piece of paper in front of him. “Alright. Anything else you can tell me about Ms. Paroli?” “She bribed the lawyers.” “In the attempted murder case?” “Mmhm. Her alcohol bullshit? Total lies. I know that girl, I know her through and through. Drunk? She's never been drunk in her life. She bought out the lawyers. The judge, the jury, the whole damn thing.” He paused, taking a moment to glare out the window. “What do you say to that, Smith?” Smith grunted, continuing to write. “So maybe you're wrong, Smith. Maybe there's more than meets the eye. Maybe she's the villain, eh?” Smith didn’t look up. “Have you had any more contact with your son since?” “No, I don't know what happened to him.” “How can you not? Wouldn’t you have been in charge of taking care of him or placing him in a foster home? “The police took him away after Verona's attempt at murder... put him with a foster home. Didn't give me any information.” “How was old was he?” “Hm, who?” “Your son, how old was he when Verona tried to kill him?” “Five.” “How old would he be now?” “Ten, I think.” “Alright.” Smith put down his pen. “You said Ms. Paroli was a stripper when you met her, how many years ago was that?” “Wow, err, sixteen years, I think.” “And she was a stripper?” “Yeah. Sixteen years ago. She was 18. Called herself White Rose. Of course, she'll deny it all, she doesn't want to ruin her good girl status. Most beautiful person there, a swan among pigeons.” “What?” “What?” They stared at each other for a second. “Err, yes.” He frowned. “Oh, and one last thing. She tried to kill me. Then she slept with someone and divorced me!” “She tried to kill you?” “Yes! I understand sleeping with someone because I did, but trying to kill me? And now, I suppose, she's saying I’m the one trying to kill her.” “Mmhm. Do you still have feelings for her?” “Eh, she's pretty but she's a bitch.” “You were married for ten years.” “Keyword: ‘were’. Anyway, it wasn't the happiest of marriages.” “Were you glad that she left you?” “Glad?” he paused. “I don't see how this question is at all relevant.” Smith smiled. “Alright.” He sat back in his chair. “How did you come to own a strip club, Mr. Tabron?” “I won it.” Smith stared at him. “From the previous owner. In a game of Poker.” “That’s a pretty high-stakes game of Poker.” “He was drunk.” He smiled. “I won the whole thing, girls and all.” Smith raised his eyebrows, perplexed. “This strip club, it’s… err, is known for having special girls. It's, um, a bit different like that. Uh, like, Arcadia Abode, like, I won the club, with… her.” “What do you mean?” “Our club has, err, special girls in it that have been with it, for a… long time.” He laughed rather nervously. “Like Ms. Abode!” “You seem to be describing a whorehouse, Mr. Tabron.” “I would be, if the girls were having sex with the customers.” He paused. “…Which they’re most defiantly not.” “Mmhm, who did you win the club from?” “Thomas Mundinger.” Smith scribbled down the name. “Alright, Mr. Tabron. I think you can go. I’ll contact you if I have any further questions, thank you for your time.” “Alright.” Tabron stood up, taking a business card out of his pocket. He handed to Smith and walked out the door.